His Windy-lady
by Magic-tofu
Summary: Love was a grown-up feeling, so, naturally, Peter had to grow up. Loosely based on 2003 movie-verse
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Love was a grown-up feeling, so, naturally, Peter had to grow up.

His choice on the matter unfortunately did not matter. After all, all children wish to never grow up, yet they all one day become men and women, both outwardly and inwardly. It's a process too underhanded to quash.

It takes only one very special thing for a child to take the first step into adulthood. For some, it is the wonder for which they have in grown-up doings, like dressing up or looking mightily important. For others it is the desire for independence, a quest to prove them worthy of taking on the world.

For Peter Pan, it was his Wendy.

Of course, Peter didn't know that. All he knew was that after she and the Lost Boys stepped off the Jolly Roger, he returned to Neverland feeling awfully lonely with only Wendy on his mind, yet out of his life.


	2. Unhappy

**Chapter One: Unhappy**

The seasons had gone and went and came back again, but, of course, that didn't matter in Neverland, for the weather had hardly changed since the Darling left – or more precisely, since the boy came back.

The daytime skies were still blue as were the nights still violet, but the sun was frequently shrouded by dismally deflated clouds and the stars no longer winked into the sea, but nodded off to sleep.

Peter Pan spent most of his days searching for new adventures in Neverland, but ever since the triumph of Hook, he had yet to find another nemesis that could take his mind off of Wendy. He was forced to resort to picking on the captain-less crew that Hook had left behind, which, considering its ease, was pitiful entertainment.

Some days, he would visit Tiger Lily of the Piccaninny Tribe and they would flirt and play as they always did. Other days he would chase the creatures of Neverland, like flying after the orange-feathered raywing bird, or stalking the various frogs of Neverland's swamps.

And all the time, he would wish that Wendy was there to see him. He wished for her to celebrate his triumphs with him, to envy his attention for Tiger Lily, and to play silly games with him. But she was not.

Once in a while, Peter would fulfill his job as father of the Lost Boys by returning to the mainland, not to see his old friends, for they had moved on, but to find new ones. He would visit the orphanages of the world, and pick up unhappy children to take off to Neverland, where he promised a carefree existence and wonderful adventures.

In the year that had passed since his time with Wendy, he had managed to find only one Lost Boy. Children were growing increasingly cynical these days.

"Why would I go with you?" the scrawny child asked from under his threadbare sheet.

"To have adventures, of course!" Peter replied.

"I've never heard of Neverland…" the boy trailed on as if deep in thought. "This could be kidnap for all I know."

Skepticism, a mark of a child? No.

But, he continued, "How do we get there?"

Curiosity? Yes.

"We fly."

The boy jumped up from his bed. "Fly?"

Peter had him now –

"We can't fly," the child confirmed, wrinkling his face. He was proving to be very difficult.

Then, Peter leapt – flew - from the windowsill to the foot of the boy's bed. "Of course," retorted Peter, smiling his mischievous grin. When Tinkerbell zipped up by Peter's ear, and the boy saw her, the deal was sealed.

And so, business was taken care of and off to Neverland they soared. Upon declaring the child as a Lost Boy, Peter crowned him with a band of bright orange raywing feathers and called him Scoffs.

Scoffs reminded Peter very much of Nibs, for he was very clever. In fact, he was a bit too clever for Peter's comfort.

"You're unhappy, Father," Scoffs declared one day, as if he was diagnosing Peter with an illness he had thoroughly considered.

Peter crinkled his nose. "What makes you say that?"

The symptoms, Scoffs explained, were that Peter always had a "faraway look" in his eyes whenever he was "queerly quiet", "whimpered" a lot about a "windy lady" in his sleep, and became "very sad very quickly."

"And you also sigh a little, every time, after we go on adventures or play," Scoffs finished.

"Ha!" Peter dismissed. "I know no sadness!"

"But – "

"Shoo! Leave!" Peter flung his arms wildly about. "Father needs rest."

Scoffs did not leave the tree, but immediately retired to bed. When Peter heard a snore from his companion, he let out a huff of breath. _Unhappy?_

_Perhaps I may be. Just a bit. _

He scratched his head.

_But about what? Wendy will know. _

She always knows.

_And she will make me happy again._

"Tink?" Peter whispered into the darkness.

A ball of light whizzed up to Peter's nose.

"Tink, we must visit the boys."

She raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"… And Wendy," Peter confessed.

Twinkle, Twinkle. Ring, Ring! _No._

"I know I shouldn't see them again, for they have decided to grow up, but – just one more time," he pleaded.

Peter was never one to beg, for the world was his. However, ever since Tinkerbelle's light went off for him, he tried to make concessions for her, his one true friend, his guardian fairy.

She stomped her tiny feet in mid-air. _No!_

"Oh, Tinkerbelle, please? I just need Wendy to fix me up, and then we'll come straight back!"

The fairy wouldn't budge, for Peter was hers, and she wouldn't allow that Wendy to ever hurt him again…

"I promise!"

…but he was so desperate for comfort that she couldn't deny him of it.

Jingle, jingle. _Fine._

"You'll always be the best, Tink!" Peter took her in his hands and smacked a quick kiss on her small head. "We'll go tonight and we'll be back by sunrise!"

There it was, trusty window, still open for Peter Pan. The lights were off, but Peter could easily awaken the children, and he supposed they wouldn't mind.

He pranced off the windowsill, but landed quietly, and due to the darkness, he could make out only the three beds that had always been there.

Peter could barely contain his excitement as he tiptoed straight towards what he remembered as Wendy's bed. His heart had quickened to a little dance by then and a smile was pushing the corners of his lips to his ears.

Careful not to startle his friend, he slowly sat down on the side of the bed.

"Wendy," he whispered to nothingness.

No reply. _Heavy sleeper._

"Wendy," Peter said a bit louder in singsong. Still nothing.

_Perhaps I should shake her a bit._

He reached out to where he believed her shoulders to be and grabbed, this time eager to surprise Wendy. However, he was surprised instead by the lack of a body.

"Wendy?" he called aloud. Tinkerbelle had fluttered over the bed, and her light illuminated nothing but bed sheets.

Worried, Peter rushed to the other two beds. Had a new villain taken her away? Upon flinging off the comforters, he found no one as well. _Where are they? Have they left me? Are they mad at me for never visiting them? Or are they in danger? No, Hook is gone! Maybe they are elsewhere in the house._

Peter flew out the Darling's nursery and into the halls of their home, which were unlit as well.

"Wendy!" he shouted. "Slightly! Nibs! Is there anybody here?!"

Alas, after shouting himself hoarse, Peter found himself unhappier than before. He returned to the bedroom, slid down against the wall by Wendy's bed, and cried, as he had done once long ago when he lost only his shadow.

Minutes passed until Peter felt a tug on his hair. Looking up from his crouch and quickly drying his tears so that none will see, he unsurprisingly found Tink.

"What?" he grumbled, still sniffling.

The little light gestured towards Wendy's bed, and Peter found a small paper package wedged tightly in between the wooden bed frame and the wall. He wriggled it loose.

_A ransom note? Are they indeed in trouble?_

He found something more pleasant instead, something just short of Wendy herself.

Peter tenderly unfolded the little package, as if he was holding a wounded bird. Out fell a little trinket, that clattered to the floor with a clink. When Peter retrieved it, he was delighted that it was a kiss! He placed the funny metal cup at the tip of his index finger and turned his attention to the piece of paper.

_How strange. _Etched in straight lines across the paper were curly symbols. _Did Wendy make this? What is she trying to say?_ After pondering over the markings for a long time, Peter recalled that these markings were letters. _Letters make words_.

It is a pity that Peter had escaped to Neverland before he attended school, and therefore, he never learned how to read or write.

"Tink, can you tell me what this says?"

She peered at the words and letters and shook her head, shaking fairy dust all over.

Peter sighed. This night was a disappointment indeed, when it should have been a happy reunion. Resigning to his "unhappiness" he climbed the windowsill.

"I guess it's time to go," he mumbled. He felt tears threaten to fall and his eyes stung with his effort to suppress them.

Tinkerbelle nodded avidly and sped ahead of him.

Peter took one last look at the bedroom behind him and prepared to take flight, tightly gripping the paper Wendy had left him.

_Good-bye._

He stepped off the windowsill.

And fell.


	3. Falling

_A/N thanks to everyone that reviewed, faved, or followed my story :)_

_It means a lot to me and they really motivate me to keep writing._

_Here's the second chapter, and I'm happy to say that Wendy will come in soon!_

_Disclaimer: Peter Pan belongs to JM Barrie, and some of the quotes in this story belong to him._

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 2: Falling**

It would be wonderful to say that a slippery windowsill was the culprit behind Peter's fall and that he had not lost his gift of flight. But then, there would be no story.

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He tumbled to the earth below, and although he was cushioned by freshly fallen snow, the blow to his back was unlike any pummeling he'd ever endured in Neverland. More terrifyingly, the fall itself was alien to the boy who always flew.

For once, he felt weighted.

_Happy thoughts. They lift you into the air!_

But he was being pulled down.

A few moments passed before Tinkerbelle hastily returned to Peter. She cocked her head in bewilderment, like a bird, for Peter was never one to linger on the ground, yet he was currently lying flat on his back.

She zipped up to his face and hovered, peering intently over her precious boy. It worried her that her restless companion was deadly still. She moved in closer to his face… closer, closer… until he suddenly blinked.

"Tink," he began in a hollow voice. "I fell."

She jingled and shrugged. _Well, get back up!_ She was growing impatient.

"Tink."

Ring.

"I've never fallen before." He was still lying on the snow.

Tinkerbelle tensed in realization, for it was true. She then yanked Peter's hair upward so that he would get up and gestured for him to fly.

Sore from the fall and the bite of the cold, he tried. He lightly kicked off of his right foot, like he always had, but all he managed was a pathetic hop. He kicked harder a second time, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and many times afterwards, but none had been successful.

_Think happy thoughts! _

_Neverland. Adventures. Sword-fighting. Codfish Hook. Stupid pirates._

_The Lost Boys. Stories. Never growing up._

_Wendy._

By the time he reached what would've been his seventieth hop, Tinkerbelle was fluttering in a frantic dance above him, pouring fairy dust all over his head and shoulders, but to no avail.

_Sad thoughts bring you down._

Peter tired, and for the third time that night, he wanted to cry.

"I'm stuck here, Tinkerbelle," he sobbed, eyes and nose red from sadness and cold. "Wendy's gone," he sniffled. "Now I can't fly! I can't go home!"

Tinkerbelle, being the small emotional creature she was, also began to well up with tears. Peter had slipped back into his curled-up crying position, as he had done earlier in Wendy's bedroom, and the fairy slumped atop his shoulder. Within a few moments, both of their faces were tear-stained and swollen.

Crying, Peter soon realized, was a tiring task. His head throbbed, his throat hurt, and his eyes stung; worst of all, he couldn't stop. After several strenuous hours, he fell asleep, sitting on a bed of snow.

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He woke up to the tugging of his hair. His eyes felt unusually sticky. It was deep into the night, and snow was falling.

Tinkerbell rubbed her hands against her arms and pointed at Peter. _Cold._

She flew up and through the open window and a few seconds later, the front door of the Darling house was open. She directed Peter inside, and together, they rested on Wendy's empty bed.

"What are we going to do?" the boy asked, fiddling with his kiss.

Jingle. _Try again tomorrow._

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_"__Goodbye Peter!" Wendy exclaimed, leaning over the windowsill and waving. _

_Floating, Peter placed his hands on his hips. "Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting."_

_Wendy placed her fingers over her lips in shame for having uttered such a thing. But she quickly recovered and smiled at him once again. "Don't forget me, Peter."_

_"__Me? Forget? Never."_

_Her grin widened, and Peter's butterflies danced in his stomach. "Will you be back?"_

_"__I've got to listen to my own stories haven't I?"_

_Wendy giggled. "Of course."_

Before he could reach the painful part of his dream, his memory of an unsaid good-bye, Peter was shaken awake by a pair of hands. _Hands? _He jumped up, immediately alert, and backed all the way up to the wall.

For a brief second, he was blinded by the white morning light, but as soon as his eyes adjusted, he saw who it was.

In front of him was a girl, who looked about his size, with short, messy golden hair and pale skin. Wrapped around her was a makeshift dress of white sheets, concealing the curves that would mark her a woman.

"Tinkerbelle!" Peter shouted, searching the room for a ball of light, wide-eyed and shocked. "Tink! Where– "

The girl had pressed her small hands over his mouth and opened her lips to speak, but no words came out – just a whimper of a voice like bells.

She brought her hands up to her throat in shock as Peter's surprise died down. Then, realization dawned on him.

"Tinkerbelle?"

The girl frantically nodded as the boy dropped his jaw and widened his eyes.

"Tink! You're _human_."

Tinkerbelle rolled her eyes at his obvious statement.

"You're _human_! How are we going to fly back to Neverland now? Please tell me you still have your fairy dust!"

She shook her head dismally.

"We can't stay here!"

Tinkerbelle looked at Peter with sad eyes. It was time to grow up, and she knew exactly why.

"We don't belong!"

She wiped from Peter's face a tear that was threatening to fall. She had always wanted to do that, to comfort him, especially in the previous night.

Before Peter could weep anymore, Tinkerbelle's stomach growled.

He stifled a sob. "You must be hungry."

She nodded. She never ate more than a handful of nuts and berries her whole life and now that she was human, her body required much more sustenance.

Peter wiped his face dry and cleared his throat, retaining his usual proud demeanor. "We can't have that can we?"

He paused, as if in thought. Then, in a slow voice, he reasoned to himself, "If we're away from home, it's an adventure."

He tucked Wendy's letter and kiss safely under the leaves by his waist. " Right Tink?"

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This adventure was turning out… not adventurous. For one, Peter always had _fun_ on his adventures, and always _won_ if there was any competition about. Now, he was having neither. Instead, a big, stronger man was holding Peter's arms tightly behind his back, as a warm loaf of bread lied soaking up cold city slush on the ground in front of them.

A crowd had formed around the pair, and Tinkerbelle was desperately trying to reach the middle, where the scene was playing out. Her small size was at her advantage as she frantically weaved her way through the crowd.

Tinkerbelle and Peter should've quit the moment they stepped onto the street - they had earned too many glares of suspicion.

"Thief!" cried the man as he tightened his grip on Peter's arms.

Peter grimaced in pain and shouted, "You have a whole tray full back there! I just needed _one_!"

"You could've gotten it if you'd paid!" the man bellowed.

"Oi, get off the streets thief! You belong in the orphanage!" pitched in a man from the crowd.

"Aye, you're the second one this week!" a woman agreed.

The man began to shove his way through the crowd.

"Where're you taking me?" demanded Peter.

"Where you belong!"

Tinkerbelle finally caught up and threw herself before the man. She silently pleaded for him to let her Peter free.

"Outta the way, girl!" He shoved Tinkerbelle aside.

She trailed on after them, her bed sheet gown collecting muddy snow and becoming heavier with each step.

"Hey! Don't push her!" Peter struggled harder to break free, but his captor wouldn't budge.

Just as Tinkerbelle was about to pounce on the man from behind, a portly woman opened the door of the shop they were passing and flew onto the street.

"Oh my!" she shrieked upon witnessing the scene before her. "Have mercy, Albert! He's half naked and she's wearing a bed sheet for goodness sake!"

"He stole my bread. I'm taking him to Miss Ophelia's."

"Oh, this should cover it," the woman said, handing the man called Albert a few coins.

He nodded, and thrust Peter forward. Before returning to his bakery, the baker pointed at his thief, and gruffly warned, "Don't let me catch you stealing again."

"Oh, please forgive Al. He's always getting his knickers in a twist for the smallest of things," explained the woman.

Tinkerbelle nodded and smiled.

"Er, thanks," mumbled Peter. He had never thanked a grown-up before.

"Where are you two going?" the woman asked as the odd pair turned to leave.

Peter shrugged. It was true. If they couldn't fly, there was no Neverland. And if there was no Neverland, there was no home.

"Well, come on in," the missus invited, opening the door to her shop. "I'm sure you dears are hungry."

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Her name was Jane Pfeiffer. "Just call me Jane."

The shop was bright from the sunlight reflecting on the ivory dresses on display. "I make wedding dresses," explained Jane, "and other things of the sort. Evening dresses, nightgowns, men's suits, hats… but mostly wedding attire. Nothing makes me happier than a glowing bride."

She was a small chubby woman, with peppered hair and a warm smile, but what stood out most to Peter were her inquisitive eyes. Her gaze lingered on him, as if she knew him, and she was certainly very observant.

She had led them to a small table at the back of the shop, where she brought out steamy bowls of breakfast from an upstairs kitchen.

"Those leaves," she said, pointing at Peter's "clothes", "Did you weave them together yourself?"

Peter nodded, mouth overstuffed with a creamy grain meal Jane had just freshly prepared.

"My, they're exquisitely handled," she gasped in wonder.

"Tharngs," Peter replied through a full mouth.

"You must be no more than thirteen or fourteen. What's your name dear?"

"Pe-er."

"Peter?"

He nodded.

"And you?" she asked Tinkerbelle.

Tinkerbelle pointed to her throat and sadly shook her head.

"Oh, poor sweetheart, what a pity! Peter? What's your sister called?"

Peter swallowed. "Tinkerbelle."

Jane chuckled. "That's an odd name, 'tis a nickname am I correct?"

Peter cast a sideways glance at Tink. She nodded, caught in the moment.

"Well, I can see why you call her that – she's a beauty. And her birth name?"

_What's a girl name in London? Wendy? No, she can't be called a Wendy, she'd despise it!_

"Why don't you guess?" offered Peter. _Oh, the cleverness of me!_

"Hmm, alright then. Meredith?"

Tinkerbelle immediately shook her head.

"Cynthia."

_No._

"Abigail."

"Cassandra."

"Felicity!"

_No, no, no._

"Lillian."

"Yes!" piped up Peter.

Tinkerbelle shot a bewildered look at Peter. _Lillian?_

Truth be told, Tinkerbelle probably would have never settled on a name had Peter not made the decision. No ordinary name would have satisfied her.

"It's Lillian?" inquired Jane.

Tinkerbelle glanced at Peter to see him giving a very slight nod. She nodded, confirming her new name.

What she didn't know was that he chose Lillian because it reminded him of Tiger Lily, who was back in Neverland, a piece of his home, and a piece of him.

"Well, Peter and Lillian, have you two any place to go?"

"No." Peter hated it, but Neverland was gone, as far as the stars, a memory he could never reach again.

"Would you like to work with me? Both of you. Peter, you have skillful hands, and Lillian, I could use some help cleaning."

Silence. They had never worked before.

"I won't be able to pay you, but I can give you three meals a day, and a place to sleep," offered Jane with a hopeful smile.

Peter looked at Tinkerbelle, waiting for her to answer. Jane had given them warmth and food when they had just lost their home, and Peter was the happiest he had been since the events of last night.

She smiled and nodded, giving their savior a silent thanks.

Jane beamed. "Oh how wonderful! I've always wanted children. We shall be like a family now!" She looked at Peter, in particular. "What say you?"

"So, you shall be my new mother?" Peter hopefully asked.

Still smiling, Jane began to tear up. "If you wish."


	4. To Live

**Chapter 3: To Live**

"To live would be an awfully big adventure."

To Peter Pan, living – growing – was less of an adventure than an endless chase of time.

In his first year with Mother Jane, he had noticeably grown a whole three inches, much to his panic.

"Don't worry; you'll slow down," Jane told him, baffled at his reaction to a perfectly natural process.

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When Mother Jane sent him to school, despite his insistent protest, Peter learned that he was nowhere close to being king of this world. He started off with nothing – no respect, no friends, no admirers, and no foes, contrary to his status in Neverland. However, over the course of a few weeks, he had obtained a reputation for being a mischief maker, and even more so as every proper young lady's shameful crush.

Unfortunately, Peter's cocky attitude and growing popularity inevitably brought him new foes, and he was armed only with his agility and lingering innocence.

Jerry Winston was not exactly bully, but a boy who needed attention. Peter became the bane of Winston's school life, for it was Winston who once was the coveted "bad boy." So, as fate would have it, a jealous Winston happily discovered that his rival lived and worked at Jane's Bridal dress shop.

The news spread like scurvy, and soon, Peter was the main subject of derision at Penning's Communal Academy.

"Dress boy," Winston would scoff as he passed by Peter in the gray school hallways.

One day, Peter decided that he would have none of it, despite Mother Jane's advice to ignore it. He was once Peter Pan, king of Neverland, the boy who never grew up, fought pirates, and flew! Oh, how the London school boys would envy him and how all the young ladies would vie for his attention!

But no. He was the "dress boy."

Instead of allowing Winston to pass him undisturbed and amused that day, Peter decided to finally release his childish anger.

After taking a swing at the much taller and thicker Jerry Winston, and having suffered several blows to the stomach himself, Peter had no choice but to run. He escaped, but the next day, he was expelled.

Apparently, the Winstons were a very rich and influential family that made annual donations to the academy. One would wonder why they sent their eldest son to a public school, instead of a prestigious boarding school, to mingle with lowly scum like Peter.

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Despite his lack of a formal education, Peter had proven himself an incredibly fast learner. At first, his forgetfulness and school days made it difficult for him to learn all the different types of stitches and fabrics, but within a few months of dedicating his full time to the dress shop, his memory skills improved vastly and he was a proud assistant to his mother.

He also learned to read and write and do arithmetic from Judith.

Prior to adopting Peter and Tinkerbelle, Miss Pfeiffer employed two older girls, Judith and Cassie, both seemingly the same age as "Lillian". Judith Engle was working for Jane in hopes of earning enough money to attend a medical school.

"Times are changing, Lily," she told Tinkerbelle in a fit of passion. "It's 1905! There ought to be more professional women."

Tinkerbelle simply shrugged at Judith's rant. She liked the shop and she loved the dresses. She couldn't see herself doing anything but making dresses every day, living in a dream of satin and lace, humming her Neverland tunes as she swept the floors, and forever being the apple of Jane's eye.

She felt wholly _loved _for the first time, and she deserved it.

Although Judith spent most of her free time studying medicine, the intelligent young woman had agreed to teach Peter and Tinkerbelle the basics of language and math. They'd study whenever business was slow, and Judith would occasionally linger after closing hours to help the pair practice. Soon, Tinkerbelle was able to communicate through a notepad and pen.

And over time, Peter was able to decipher more and more of Wendy's letter.

When he found that she had addressed him as "Dear Peter," his long dormant butterflies came fluttering back.

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On the anniversary of Peter and Tinkerbelle's adoption, Mother Jane declared it as their "Found-day," and that they were then a year older.

"Peter, you're fifteen now, alright? And Lillian, dear, you're of marrying age." She paused in thought, and then smiled. "But don't think that I'll be giving your hand to anybody any time soon. I've yet to spend more time with my daughter," she concluded, pecking her Lily on the cheek.

Jane was always struggling to give them an identity. It frustrated her to no end that her two kids came to her having nothing but their names.

After a slow day of work (thanks to heavy snowfall), the little family and Judith and Cassie celebrated with pudding.

And Peter received his first grown-up kiss from Cassie. It was no thimble but as real as a kiss can get.

"You know, Peter, you're extremely handsome," she cooed, peering at him from under her long lashes, as they were cleaning the dishes. The other three women were downstairs touching up a wedding dress that was to be picked up the following day.

She leaned in closer to him until their lips met. Cassie was undoubtedly a very pretty and attractive brunette who'd had her fair share of boys, but Peter never felt anything except perhaps a mild friendship for her. Still, he didn't resist.

It was clumsy but pleasurable, hands all over and heaving breaths. For the first time, Peter was succumbing to the natural desire that came with growing up. He felt uncomfortably hot and the new stirrings within his body ached for something more.

But when Cassie had her fill, she pulled away, gave the younger boy a charming smile, and wished him a Happy Found-day.

They never spoke of it again.

Peter didn't mind. He'd trade that kiss for Wendy's thimble any day.

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As the second Found-day came around the corner, Peter had memorized Wendy's letter. The sheet had grown yellow and worn from nightly readings, and the kiss – Wendy's kiss – had become dull from constant fiddling.

That year, while Peter was lost in love, Tinkerbelle fell in love. His name was Eugene Cardington.

Of course, it had to be that Mr. Cardington was the one who fell first. Tinkerbelle had been vying for attention her whole life and it only seemed right that her husband was the one to do the courting when it came down to "forever."

They met when he came to the shop to have a suit altered. Tinkerbelle, who was to become his Lily flower, charmed him with her voice and won him with her temper.

To Cassie, the "expert" of such matters, they were a match made in heaven. Eugene was patient and meticulously attentive, while Tinkerbelle was fiery yet lovely.

"But, most importantly, he's rich," Cassie stressed.

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When the second Found-day arrived, Peter finally asked his Mother why.

"Why did you take us in, mother?" he softly asked the aging woman the question that always lurked in the back of his mind.

She had given them so much, so willingly, and they had returned so little.

Brushing the unruly blonde hair out of her Peter's green eyes, she almost-whispered, "I had a husband, and a son."

And then he understood. The joyous little lady that had become their mother had been hiding a past. She needed them as much as they needed her.

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In the year of the third Found-day, Peter had grown two heads taller than his sister.

The shop was busy with wedding arrangements for its precious Lillian, its Lily, its Tinkerbelle, namely in making her wedding dress.

The affair was quite the talk of the town, for how could the Cardington's eldest son, their charming, clever, talented Eugene, settle for the humble, lowly, mute, _nameless _seamstress of the local dress shop?

Mrs. Cardington refused to proceed with the formalities that came with an aristocratic wedding; there was no lavish engagement party, no meeting of the families, and no monetary contribution to the celebration. Eugene took it upon himself to pay for a modest, close celebration that took place midsummer, while Jane crafted a flowery gossamer gown for her daughter of three years.

"Visit as much as possible," she tearfully commanded her Lillian. "Be nice to Mrs. Cardington. You are a wife now, not a girl… but should she ever upset you, remember that you are my daughter, and that I will always be there for you."

When it was Peter's turn to say good-bye, he gave his guardian fairy, his Tink, his Neverland, his sister, a tight hug. Then, all resolve to remain strong, to be the man he appeared to be, dissolved, and for one last time, he was a child for Tinkerbelle.

"You have to visit!" he sobbed down in her hair.

Tinkerbelle pulled away, and slapped his chest, glaring. _My hair!_

He laughed and she laughed, and for the first time since Neverland, it was just the two of them. No Jane, no time, no wedding, no growth. Just a boy and his fairy.

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Weeks after Tinkerbelle's wedding and move into the luxurious Cardington estate on the outskirts of town, Cassie married as well. She was to be the third wife of a rich American merchant twenty-two years her senior.

It was expected.

Judith, on the other hand was finally able to attend a medical school.

She bid Jane and Peter good-bye, and excitedly left for her new life as a doctor and eventual surgeon.

Peter made a note to himself to never forget Judith, the key to Wendy's letter.

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_Dear Peter,_

_How are you? I hope you aren't terribly lonely. I miss you very much, and I still tell stories about my adventures with you. I will never forget. Have you forgotten me? I know you haven't, because sometimes I hear a welcome sound at my window, like bells or laughter, and I know it's you. Why haven't you shown yourself? Are you upset that I left? That I took the boys with me? If you are, please forgive me, for I have to be with my mother._

_Please do not be angry. My window will always be open for you, even after I've grown up._

_It's been eight months now, since we parted. The house has been getting too small for John, Michael, and me, as well as the Lost Boys. We've all grown some, but not too much. Father's finally earned enough money to buy a bigger house. We're moving tomorrow morning._

_It's a large estate in the countryside, with a large field, so that we may run around and play. The boys are very excited about it, especially the younger ones._

_But, we are all very worried that you will not find us again. That is why I left you this letter. And the kiss. So that you will never forget._

_I know you promised never to forget, but you have an awful memory sometimes._

_Love, _

_Wendy_

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Tonight was the night before the fourth Found-day, the beginning of Peter's fifth year in London.

Peter was lying on his small mattress in the attic that was his room, looking up out the circular window. It had snowed that day, but the night was calmer and the skies were clear.

It had been so long since he was able to single out the two stars that used to lead him home. They had disappeared and joined the other nameless lights in the sky.

But the sky was beautiful either way.

Peter had just finished his nightly reading of Wendy's letter. He had it clearly etched into his head by now, but tonight was to be the last time he looked at it. He wanted to absorb every detail, every loop in her letters, and every dot of her "i"s. Tomorrow, he would put it away, tuck it safely under his bed, where he hoped it would be forgotten and forever untouched.

The kiss, he would leave in one of the shop's many sewing kits. There, like the stars, it would disappear among less interesting thimbles, and be forgotten as well.

He wished that he could tuck Wendy away, too, in a sea of look-alikes, but that was far too difficult.

But he would make her a memory, a fond memory, forever to be cherished and remembered, but never meant to come back.

Five years.

It was time to let go.

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Little did Peter know that in the spring of his fifth year, his Wendy would walk back into his life.


	5. Propriety

_Hello everybody! So sorry for the delayed update but I have been soooo busy these past few weeks._

_Again, a million thank yous to my reviewers, followers, and favers. You guys are really encouraging and make my day whenever I hear from you._

_Here's chapter 4. Enjoy :)_

_Constructive criticism will be well appreciated_

**Chapter 4 : Propriety**

It was strange, staying in London. After five years of living in the green English country, she had grown accustomed to the open arms of spring. In the spring months, the Darling estate was nothing short of a vast emerald field that blossomed with whites, yellows, and pinks, that burst with grasshoppers and pollen.

Now, in between the tall dirty buildings, teeming streets, and narrow alleyways, she suffocated. The sight of green life and natural soil was rare, and the smog of London created a thin veil that muddled the crisp spring sky.

The Darlings were staying with the Cardingtons due to a very special – though not yet official, she liked to stress - social affair.

They lived in a grand mansion on the outskirts of the city, safe from the hustle and bustle of the main streets. It was a comfortable home, not overly-lavish, but luxurious. It certainly was very large, and the garden was a pleasant sight of perfectly mowed grass and roses. What she liked most though, was the front lawn, which boasted perfect squares of green and its own personal forest of oak trees.

If she wasn't in the Cardington guest room, or reading outside on its balcony (where she had a perfect view of treetops), she was in the garden or lawn. Otherwise, she did not like to linger inside the mansion, alone with Mother, Mrs. Cardington, and a handful of servants. Mrs. Cardington was a woman of small talk, judgment, and snobbish propriety, while _she _was definitely not.

And there was Henry Cardington.

A fine gentleman, he was well-read and erudite.

"A perfect match for you, dear!" Mother had exclaimed.

Yes, she and Henry Cardington got along relatively well, and she enjoyed his company more than that of her other suitors. They had much to converse about – from literature to philosophy to botany – and she felt that he was a perfect friend. A friend.

He _should_ be perfect for her, she often thought. He had the same interests, he was definitely handsome, he respected her, _and_ he may have even loved her. He was perfect in every respect.

She felt friendship for him. Admiration. Respect. A platonic fondness.

That was as far as she _could_ go.

_Maybe there's a different kind of perfect._

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She was happy once.

_Is everyone happy only once?_

There was a time when books and stories and brothers were enough for her to survive on, to fly on.

There might've been an adventure too.

But as she grew, Mother discouraged her from reading, and implored her to learn the arts of politely smiling, politely giggling, politely sipping, politely nodding, politely speaking, politely being.

Her dream of becoming a novelist shattered with her girlhood.

Still, whenever she could, she'd spend hours in Father's small personal library, studying alone. She had read every political treatise, history account, and philosophical rendering in that room at least twice; it was possibly her proudest achievement.

_Pitiful, _she thought. _Eighteen years gone and that's all I can pride myself on._

Then John and Slightly left to a boarding school, where she knew they would get a taste of adolescent freedom among other boys their age. Afterwards, they followed Father's good friend's son (of whom she had rejected a marriage proposal) to America for higher education and the adventure of city life.

Then went Nibs, who was in South America, studying botany. Then Curly, who followed John and Slightly to America. Tootles received an early acceptance to Oxford, much to her envy.

A few weeks ago, before coming back to London, she bid farewell to the Twins – Harry and Thomas - and Michael, as they headed off on a train to the same boarding school, to follow the paths of their brothers before them, or diverge on equally exciting roads.

So, now she was alone, with her future laid neatly before her

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Peter was very professional. Sure, he was in constant contact with young ladies, having taken over the job of measuring, but there was never a slip of hand or a flirtatious comment.

Just a sly wink or crooked smile every so often.

Ever since Judith and Cassie left, Mother Jane taught him how to take measurements and tailor clothes. He had been doing so for almost two years, much to the guilty fancies of the ladies that patronized the shop.

His third client of today, a willowy redhead, had just left.

"Lily's coming by today," Mother Jane shouted from cutting some fabric in the back room, "said she'd drop by on her way to the Cardington's."

Peter's mood brightened. It had been several weeks since he had seen Tinkerbelle.

"What's the occasion?" he shouted back. "She hates the missus, it must be really special if she's going to visit her!"

"Peter! That is no way to speak of Lady Cardington!"

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"Eugene Cardington and his wife will be arriving today," said Mother. "We should order your dress before they come, lest we leave an unfavorable impression."

"Of course, mum."

She had forgotten that she needed a new dress for the big night.

That's how she found herself on a quaint little London street this afternoon. Her mother had insisted on going to one of the more prominent dress shops in London, but wanting to get away from the hustle and bustle of the main streets, her daughter decided to shop on one of the less busy lanes.

"You're not going to find a decent dress here, darling," said Mother, scanning up and down the road with an uncharacteristic sneer.

"We don't know. Maybe I'll find something better," she offered upon entering a dress shop.

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A stout woman greeted them. "Hello," she beamed at her new clients. "I'm Jane."

Mother curtly nodded while her daughter smiled back.

"What can I help you with, Miss…?"

"Darling," answered Mother. "We need an evening gown for this Saturday."

"That's a bit fast, but I think we can manage."

"Are you sure it will be of high quality? I do not wish to waste anyone's time, should this dress be poorly made."

"I can assure you, we make only the best," the shop owner replied, her kindly demeanor faltering.

"Good," piped the younger Darling, smiling, hoping to ease the tension before the two older women.

Jane directed her attention to the girl and regained her friendly composure. "This way, Miss Darling, for measurements." She cleared her throat and tossed a sideways glance at the tense mother. "If you don't mind, my _son _is in charge of measurements," she explained, "and I really must finish a suit right now…"

"That's fine," said the young lady.

"_No_," stressed the older with clenched teeth. "It is _improper_."

"Mother," she began in a whisper. "_Seven boys_. I grew up with _seven _boys. I think I can handle _one_," she chuckled.

She turned and followed Jane.

"Don't worry Miss Darling, he's very professional."

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"I hope you don't mind waiting for a few minutes. He's just tidying up some supplies upstairs."

The Darling nodded. When the shopkeeper left the small dressing room, she began to undress, removing her blouse and skirt, as needed for measurements.

She turned to a mirror leaning against the wall and observed herself.

_Really, Mother? Is this corset really necessary?_

It was a hassle to breathe wearing all those undergarments.

She heard the click of an opening door, which interrupted her thoughts. And who she met took her breath away.

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Blue eyes. Light brown hair. A familiar face. A hidden kiss.

_Is it really…?_

Peter froze.

_It couldn't be…_

He slowly closed the door behind him and gulped.

They young woman before him looked as stunned as he felt, but there didn't seem to be a look of recognition on her face. Confusion, there was.

As if in a trance, she gradually made her way toward him, taking slow, hesitant steps. She stopped right in front of him, and peered up at his face, stopping just a few inches short of touching his lips.

His heart was rapidly jumping and his hands were clammy with sweat.

He took in her round blue eyes, little pools of Neverland seas, her curious stare, like the very first look she'd ever given him, her rosy lips, which he remembered to be soft and sweet, her light wispy brown hair, still wavy and carefree as he remembered, even though it was held back by a ribbon.

This was her.

His Wendy.

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Those green eyes. She had seen them before, in a dream.

A childhood dream.

No, but now they were on this boy.

And this certainly was not a dream.

Was it?

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Her face was still very close to his, and he could feel her warm breath brush his neck. She stared deeply into his eyes, and, although he was overjoyed he had found her, the whole situation was, truthfully, unnerving.

Finally, after an eternity of pondering into his eyes, she lifted her hand up, bringing her fingers to his face.

It was like the sudden contact had awoken her from her trance, for she pulled back and stepped backwards as soon as her fingertips met his cheek.

Blue broke from green, and now he could see a blush creeping up her neck as she shyly turned away and cleared her throat.

A brief silence passed.

"Er – sorry, I – um," she stuttered.

For a few seconds, Peter was befuddled himself, but he regained his charming poise.

Cockily smiling and peering at her from under his long lashes, he replied, "It's alright. I have that effect on all my customers."

Wendy straightened her back and wrinkled her eyebrows, shooting him an indignant look.

Now Peter was humiliated.

_Stupid, stupid, _he thought angrily, although he couldn't help but fondly recall that she did have a haughty attitude at times.

_Should I call her girlie?_

"Sorry," he apologized under her authoritative glare.

She broke eye contact again. "You just reminded me of someone, that's all," she coolly declared.

"Are you going to take my measurements now?" She demanded, before he could ask who.

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She couldn't help but stare as he moved around her, swiftly pulling the measuring tape across her features and jotting down numbers.

She had decided that he was attractive, with his lightly tanned skin, boyish features and lean build, not to mention his messy brown hair was beyond delightful.

She resisted the strong urge to run her fingers through it, though she had the feeling he wouldn't mind.

Despite all this, she could not get her mind off of his eyes. She had seen them before, long ago, but she couldn't recall when or where.

Well, she could, but they were in a dream.

A dream of flying, of fairies, of adventure, of love.

Yet she _knew _those eyes were the exact pair she had seen before.

But in a dream. A dream.

A dream?

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He felt hot. All this contact with the girl he had been waiting for forever was overwhelming.

He tried not to let his thoughts wander whenever his fingers brushed her bare skin, but the mere touch sent a frenzy of tingles up his arm.

When he measured her chest area, an intense blush threatened to spill over his skin like a cup of bright red watercolors.

_Calm down, Peter. It's just Wendy._

The thought made him want to explode with tears of joy.

It was just Wendy.

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When she left, much to his dismay, he wondered. After all, most girls who passed through the shop were young brides.

He had finally gathered the courage to ask Mother Jane a few minutes before Tinkerbelle arrived.

"Ahem."

"Yes, Peter?" she asked loftily, working on a suit.

"That girl, that just left…"

"Which one?" She sounded a bit more interested.

"Umm, the one with the blue eyes… and brown hair," he trailed off.

"Oh, Miss Darling, you mean?"

"Yes!"

"What about her?" Mother Jane had stopped her work to focus on her boy.

"Um…" _How was he going to ask this?_

"You want to know if she's getting married or not?" she asked knowingly, slyly smiling.

He shrugged.

"Well, she certainly was very pretty," she continued, sewing a button on the suit, acting unconcerned.

"So… is she?"

"Yes."

His stomach dropped as his butterflies died.

Of course. He was stupid to hope for otherwise.

Mother Jane heaved a loud sigh. "_No, _she's not."

Now, he felt light as feather, and his fluttery friends were reborn.

"At least, not that I know of. She needed an evening gown." She put a hand on her hip and gave Peter an inquiring look. "Peter, do you like her?"

He was taken aback. He shook his head immediately, but his belated response indicated otherwise. "She's an old friend."

His mother gave him a concerned glance and resumed her work. "Please don't be, dear. It'll earn you nothing but bad gossip. And her mother won't spare you a second thought."

Before the conversation could continue further, Tinkerbelle and Eugene arrived.

The petite lunged at Peter, dropping her floppy hat in the process, as her husband made his way to Jane and courteously pecked her on both cheeks.

"I hope you're well Mother," said Eugene.

"Oh, of course! I'm always happy to see you two!" Mother Jane shrieked, red with happiness, as she tightly squeezed her Lily. "You must be hungry."

Tinkerbelle nodded frantically, as her husband followed Jane upstairs to help.

Sitting at the sewing table, Tinkerbelle pulled out a notepad and pen, and scribbled.

_Come to the Cardington's Saturday at 8._

"Why?" grimaced Peter.

_You must. Big party._

"So?"

_Girls! Ladies!_

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Tink rolled her eyes, and continued to write.

_I want you to be happy! Love._

Then, it struck him. The Cardingtons were a family of high standing, and it was certain that every family of high society would be there. The Darlings would be there. Wendy would be there.

He looked at Tinkerbelle excitedly, and she was taken by surprise at his sudden enthusiasm.

"Tink! I must find a suit!"

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_I hope you guys liked that! I can't wait to write the next chapter, I have soooo much planned. Squeeeee!_


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